But the big question was, how did Edie manage to kill both Paige and Chloe?
That had us stumped at first, but then I remembered what Chas Gorman, the doper in the building, had said. He’d thought he heard someone knock on Chloe’s door before she and Dale got home. I hadn’t put much stock in his accuracy at the time. But next-door neighbor Janet was wide awake when Dale left, and she hadn’t heard anyone else arrive after that.
So Edie had to have gotten there before Dale and Chloe. And the timing of the phone calls with Aubrey and Brent confirmed it. That meant Edie had to have killed Paige before Dale and Chloe came home. But then why kill Chloe? I had to replay the whole scenario to figure that one out. There was only one possible explanation: Chloe and Dale got home before Edie had the chance to escape. Stuck in Paige’s bedroom, the only thing Edie could do was close the door and hide-and hope no one came in. That’s where she got lucky. Paige had said she probably wouldn’t be back until morning, so Chloe had no reason to go check on her. And Chloe was distracted. She and Dale were having one hell of a fight.
Hiding in Paige’s bedroom, Edie would’ve heard that fight and heard Dale storm out. It was the perfect cover. Armed with the knife she’d used on Paige, she caught Chloe by surprise and-based on the crime-scene photos-still on the floor. With Chloe dead, Edie had a little time to figure out how to get out of there without being seen. It wouldn’t have taken her long to figure out that the balcony was an easy climb.
Then I remembered there’d been some stray hairs and prints in the apartment-notably, some unidentified prints on the doorknob of Paige’s closet, probably where Edie had been hiding when Dale and Chloe came home. Wayne Little said he already had his men pulling up the evidence to see if they matched up to Edie. I wound up thinking it was all pretty simple. But most crimes are, when it comes right down to it. Even the big ones.
By the time the cops let us go, I was so exhausted on every level-emotional and physical-that I could barely keep my eyes open. And now that the adrenaline had worn off, I felt like I’d been stuck in a cement mixer. Alex looked drained, but he seemed in better shape than I was. He drove us back to his place and insisted I spend the night.
I decided not to argue. My place was safe now, but it was still a mess, and the thought of having to confront the ugliness was overwhelming. On our way back to Alex’s apartment, he told me he’d called Michelle to give her a quick rundown of what’d happened while I was wrapping up with Wayne Little. She’d been glad we were alive but “pissed enough” to kill us.
Right as she was, I didn’t have the energy to deal with it. So when we walked in, I was prepared to tell her to yell at me tomorrow. But we must’ve looked pretty bad, because she took one look at us and said, “You guys need to get to bed.”
Alex went to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pinot noir. “We do. But I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. It’s from Adastra, this great winery in Napa. Proximus pinot noir.”
It was beautiful. And just what I needed to take the sharp edges off all the trauma we’d been through. I let Alex fill in the rest of the story.
When he’d finished, Michelle stretched out and held the glass on her stomach. “But why would Edie need to kill Brent? She knew he killed Storm. And that he tried to kill us. So what if he knew she’d killed Chloe and Paige? Wasn’t it kind of a standoff?”
Alex refilled Michelle’s glass. “I’d guess she just didn’t know if or when he might have an attack of conscience and decide to come clean. Or maybe blackmail her with it. As long as he was alive, it’d be hanging over her head. She’d never really be safe.”
Michelle took a sip. “You think Aubrey knew about Edie and Brent?”
I shrugged. “That one’s hard to call.”
Michelle sat up and put her glass on the table. “Well, I sure don’t blame her for having an affair. But how’d she plan to get away with killing Brent?”
Good question. “I don’t know. But she was pretty unhinged. I’m not sure how much real planning went into it.”
Alex swirled the wine in his glass. “Even so, she might’ve pulled it off if we hadn’t been there. Unless someone got a good look at her-not so easy considering she was dressed in that hoodie and dark clothing. Plus, who’d suspect her?”
I sighed. “And losing it or not, she sure managed to play me like a kazoo-for months.”
Michelle nodded. “But who’s in handcuffs now?”
A great point. I smiled. “And more important, look who’s out of them.” I raised my glass. “To Dale.” We toasted to that.
SIXTY-FOUR
I was pretty amped when I rode to court the next morning. Tired, sore, and looking like I’d spent the night in a washing machine on the spin cycle-but amped. Alex and Michelle were with me. They deserved to take this victory lap.
I headed back to the holding tank to see Dale. It was a whole new experience now that he’d been cleared. I could look him in the eye and not wonder whether he’d murdered two innocent girls. I could share a smile with him and not worry that I was in the company of a psychopath. And I could hold my head up without feeling judged for being the daughter of a multiple murderer. It surprised me to realize how much that had weighed on me. It wasn’t as though he’d ever been a real father to me. But there was no denying that we were connected by blood. Like it or not, on some elemental, lizard-brain level, his sins were my sins. So knowing he hadn’t killed Paige and Chloe was more than just a relief-it was almost as though I’d been exonerated.
Dale was beaming. “Does this mean I’ll actually get to talk to you with no bars or bulletproof glass between us? I won’t know how to act.”
I smiled. “Me neither.”
His eyes were misty. “I’d say thank you, but it seems so lame. You saved my life.” His expression turned anxious. “When I heard about the fire at your office, I thought I was going to lose my mind. If anything had happened to you, Sam…” He trailed off, unable to speak.
I waited for him to recover. When he looked up again, I gave him a little smile. “We don’t have to go there.”
Dale sighed. “No, better not.”
But my smile wavered. The image of Brent putting the gun to his head, the roar of the shot, his blood and brains splattering the walls, kept coming back to me, again and again.
Dale watched me knowingly. “I’ve seen some ugly things-even saw a jumper once-but I’ve never seen anyone commit suicide that way. How’d you sleep?”
“Not great.” That was nothing new. But last night, I got to have a whole new nightmare and dreamed nonstop about blasts of gunfire and torn, bloody faces. I woke up over and over again, breathless and shaking. “I just hope it’ll stop sometime soon.”
Dale nodded. “I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I can tell you from experience, it does get better-eventually. And if you want to talk, I’m here.”
That’s right, he really could be. Now. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
Dale’s brow furrowed. “They arrest Aubrey yet?”
I nodded. “Up in Sacramento. He was at a campaign fund-raiser. Guess he’ll need those funds for something else now.”
As we exchanged grins, the bailiff tapped me on the shoulder. “The judge’s about to come out, Samantha. Wrap it up.”
I gave the bailiff a salute and turned back to Dale. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
The benches in the gallery were so packed I didn’t know how anyone was breathing. The story had been all over the news, but the audience sat in rapt silence as Detective Little spoke. To his credit, he admitted we’d put it together for him.